


The Drowning Man

by early_sunsets_over_moronville



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Donna and The Doctor are Best Friend Siblings, Donna is a sassy angel, Drowning, F/M, Freeform, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Miserable, No beta we die like The Ponds, Not yet though, Rose Tyler is Evil, Sarah Jane has Problems, Suicide Attempt, The Doctor has Problems, The Doctor is John Noble, Therapist!Doctor, Unhealthy Relationships, WE DIE OK?, Who didn't actually die, fine we die like Adric, or the Pretty Lady whose name I forgot, sorry - Freeform, won't update in a while?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/early_sunsets_over_moronville/pseuds/early_sunsets_over_moronville
Summary: John Noble.That was him. What was there to know?Son of Sylvia Nobel, Half sister of Donna Noble, Grandson of Wilfred Mott, Boyfriend of Rose Tyler. Therapist. David Bowie Fanatic. Dog Owner.Oh yeah, and late.
Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, The Doctor/Sarah Jane Smith
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	The Drowning Man

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning - attempted suicide by jumping off a bridge  
> Trigger Warning- Unhealthy relationships at some point
> 
> Pls read, Kudos/ Tell me what you think.
> 
> Thanks

“Bye!”

A ginger lady, sitting on the sofa dressed casually in her Black Sabbath t-shirt, looked up from the bowl of crisps she had been studying. 

“Sandwitches are in the blue box, keys are on the dresser.See you.”

“Great, thanks so much Donna.”

“You’re gonna be late John. Hurry up and go.”

"Alright, alright, I’m leaving.Love you”

“Love you too, now piss off to work, Spaceman.”

John Noble. That was him. What was there to know? Son of Sylvia Nobel, Half sister of Donna Noble, Grandson of Wilfred Mott, Boyfriend of Rose Tyler. Therapist. David Bowie Fanatic. Dog Owner. Oh yeah, and _late_.

He ran to the station, but there was no way he could get the train. You would be mad to even _try_ and get on a train in Central London in the summer anyway, let alone in rush hour. He checked his watch, an old plastic item that Rose had got for him. “Dug it out of a bin bag” Donna had said, but he just told her it was given with love. He tried not to think about the engraved silver watch she had presented her ‘ _friend_ ’, Adam Mitchell, with. 

After a few seconds of weighing it up, he decided it would be easier to walk to his office. It was a nice day, and he could even walk along the bridge if he hurried. And so, not before taking a cursory glance at Google Maps, he turned on his heel and strode into the sunlight.

* * *

She walked to the bridge in the fashion of most Londoners at this time of day- head down, headphones on, briskly walking down the street. No one saw her- she was one of those people who seemingly did nothing but purposefully march through London- a physical manifestation of The Apprentice theme tune. And with everyone wrapped up in their own little worlds of _podcasts_ and _kale_ and _Eastenders_ and _whatever music the youngsters were listening to today_ , no one noticed as she climbed over the safety rail until she was sitting on the edge of the bridge. She looked at the rusted bar, and then,with the swiss army knife her mam had gifted her back in the 80s, she scratched her name into the metal. It joined the others, and she drank them in, the ghosts of those who had taken their own lives before her. 

_J.R Murphy 1943_  
_Helena Biscetti 1989_  
_Val Capaldi 2002_  
_Lucretia 1973_  
_Bela Legusi 1999_

And now

_Sarah Jane Smith 2020_

They filled her with strength, told her it wouldn’t hurt, one small push and it would be over. She changed the track on her phone to The Cure’s The Drowning Man. Perfect. The lady leaned forward and amid the fading voices that still bickered in her head, she heard a cry ring out.

“Sarah!”

And then there was a moment of blinding, freezing pain, and then, there it was. She had been searching for this her whole life. 

_Silence_.

* * *

John strolled casually along the bridge. He knew he shouldn’t- he was late as it was- but it was a damn nice day and he was making the most of it. Besides, London was always a fascinating opportunity to observe humanity, so involved with their own little lives and whether Deborah's finished the admin or if Jacob really is dating Millie from the office that they never saw the world at large, never saw the wars or the climate crisis until they suddenly couldn't go to Spain for the winter. Rose saw the world like that, he knew. Her world was of gossip, of minor celebrities and their torrid affairs. Not of course that there was anything wrong with it. He listened to her talk about it all the time. Although he remembered the one time he had tried to explain to her about his view on the world, and in his mind saw the patronizing, annoyed look on her face. He banished it quickly. 

He had a philosopher's view on the world, and knew few people who he could talk about freely too. There was his grandad, and Donna of course and……

And Sarah Jane Smith. His best friend, and a fellow philosopher. With guilt, he realized that he hadn't thought about her for ages. Hadn’t seen head nor tail of her since he started dating Rose. 20 whole years without his Sarah Jane. Bloody hell. 

Just as he was a was about to follow that train of thought, he heard a guy shout. He started jogging to a crowd of people, pushing his way through. 

A body, limp,frail and blue, clothed in sodden black clothes, had been dragged onto the land. Dark hair covered the face of the woman. Another attempted drowning he reckoned. And then he saw the face.

Time stopped.

He vaguely heard someone call an ambulance, and ask if she was okay, but they were faint, a shadow of a memory. Because there was no mistaking that lady. Two decades on, gaunt and weathered and hollow, black hair instead of brown, red eyes instead of amber, and yet he still knew who she was.

“SARAH!”


End file.
